Emotions, Tonight, and Tomorrow
by Mycero
Summary: When someone disables the water at Wammy's House, Near is caught up a bit short before bed. One-shot. Contains: Omorashi, bedwetting.


Near entered his room, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and shut the door, keeping his legs pressed tight together and bending forward a little, his loose fitting pyjamas stretched tight over his bladder, which bulged out from his stomach more than he could have thought possible.

 _There's no doubt in my mind that I'm going to catch the culprit behind tampering with the plumbing, but I have serious doubts on how long I can hold it in. I won't be able to wait until the plumbing is operational again, I can tell that much._

Near's bladder was pulsing and trembling with the effort of holding it all in. He bit his lip, turning back around and lying down in his bed with the sound of plastic crinkling, noting the instant relief in pressure now that gravity wasn't working against him. He still desperately needed to go, but it was manageable, and in waves now instead of a constant overwhelming pressure.

He laid on his side, breathing deeply to calm his heart rate, crossing his legs under his sheets and slipping a hand between his thighs — not pressing down on his crotch, not yet, but it was comfortable. It was a reassurance.

After a few minutes of this, his bladder seemed to calm, the contractions and trembling ceasing. Near relaxed a bit, acknowledging how tired he was, and letting his eyes slip closed. His bladder felt so full and heavy, and pulsed in a way that wasn't entirely unpleasant. It also made him seem warmer than usual, in a way that made him oddly sleepy. His free hand drifted to his front, feeling how hard and full his bladder was, bulging out from him. He could honestly say that he would be content to stay like this for a while.

He shifted a little and pulled the blanket up a bit further, deciding that it wouldn't hurt to go to sleep for a little bit. His bladder wasn't bothering him that much anymore, so he didn't have that distracting him.

Near awoke roughly four hours later, squirming desperately. The hand that had been comfortably clasped in his thighs now pressing hard into his crotch. He groaned audibly, twisting his legs together and scrunching his eyes closed again. He was still so tired.

His bladder throbbed, seemingly bulging further out than before, if that was possible. His close-fitting briefs and even his pyjama trousers were cutting into his bladder painfully, increasing the already extreme pressure to an almost unmanageable level. Near whimpered a little bit, his sleep-addled mind seeming to work at half-capacity, adjusting his pants and trousers so that they weren't cutting in as much, and rolled over so he was facing his door, intending to get up and go to the bathroom, wondering why he had to go _so bad._

Then he remembered.

The plumbing. The prank. The lack of bathrooms.

 _Oh no_.

Near bit his lip so hard he almost drew blood. He had to go so _bad_ he could hardly think of anything else. And worse too, he remembered, if he tried to get up, the need would only get much worse. And Near wouldn't be able to handle 'much worse'.

 _This isn't good._

Near's thoughts were a jumbled mess, a mixture of half-formed contingencies and panicked thoughts. He broke into a cold sweat, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he held himself with both hands, his legs crossed so tight they were starting to go numb.

 _What am I going to do? I can't hold it in any longer..._

His breath came in gasps, tears starting to run down onto his pillow.

 _Maybe I could...but I don't have any receptacles, that isn't an option. Oh lord._

Near was shaking, his heart beating like he was in a marathon.

 _A-a towel? But I'd have to make it all the way to the bathroom for that, and I can't make it that far. Oh god, I can't hold it, what am I going to do?_

The room seemed to be spinning around him, blurred with tears. He felt so small – more than ever before. He was being defeated by simple human functions. His emotionless façade was in fragments. The world felt like it was spinning out of control, and over what? Near buried his face into his pillow, not even noticing that he was whimpering audibly as he felt a warmth on his hands.

 _I can't hold it, oh god, I can't hold it any longer._

A single spurt wormed its way past Near's grip, soaking into his pyjamas and creating a small damp patch on his crotch. Near bit down on his lip until he tasted copper, squirming more and moaning. He couldn't continue fighting like this. There was no real reward, no real end to his suffering.

Another, longer spurt pushed its way out of his bladder. His muscles were starting to give up. Near's pillow was starting to become wet with tears, and he drew another deep shuddering breath as his hands squeezed at his crotch as hard as he could manage.

 _All this effort, all this pain. All for nothing._

Tears started to run down his face with increasing frequency, his breathing shuddering and gasping as his bladder gave a powerful lurch and he felt his last vestiges of control slip away. Near moaned softly in pain. It was just too much to handle. It started small – a slow, wavering stream that he was able to stop a couple of times, slowly increasing in force. Near pulled his hands away from his crotch turning himself so that he faced into the mattress, crossing his arms below his pillow as he shoved his face into it.

Near's white pyjama trousers soaked through within seconds, the hot liquid seeping into his sheets and starting to spread outward, soaking up through his shirt and down towards his knees. He shuddered a bit in relief, his legs, still tightly crossed, starting to loosen, quivering with the effort he was still putting forth trying to hold back.

Momentarily though, he just ceased caring. The damage was done. He uncrossed his legs, his muscles fully giving in. The hard, painful, bulging ball that was his bladder finally started to loosen as he moved onto his side again, curling into a ball and wrapping his arms around his knees. He didn't even care that his arms were getting soaked in urine. The fluids flowed into his sheets quickly now, spreading outward and starting to soak into the blanket he had wrapped around him. His formerly white pyjamas became translucent wherever his urine soaked in, showing his pale skin beneath.

After over a minute of constantly voiding at full-force, Near's bladder was finally empty. Empty, and aching a bit from being forced to hold so much for so long. By this point, Near was lying in quite the large puddle, extending over a third of a metre past both his front and back, and reaching from where he had his feet curled all the way to his shoulders. Every small movement Near made came with the sound of liquid moving beneath him.

Near felt sick, though. He'd lost control of his bladder. He'd voided – to hell with it, _he'd wet the bed_ while fully conscious. He'd _utterly wet his pants_ without being able to stop it. Near's body shook, eliciting the sound of liquid moving beneath him again. His breathing started coming in gasps again, and he grit his teeth. His whole body felt like it was in flames. He felt light-headed and dizzy. Most think of Near as an emotionless person.

 _Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'm going to find them. I'm going to find them, and I will make sure they're expelled from Wammy's._

But tonight, Near let his emotions take over. Tonight, Near cried.


End file.
